Osiris: Homecoming
by Tirade
Summary: Story based on an original immortal, Siris. I rated it R because it has some mild sex and a good deal of violence. This story chronicles the homecoming of the ancient egyptian immortal, Siris, as he returns home for the first time in more than 2,000 years
1. Chapter 1

Highlander: Osiris  
Homecoming  
Chapter 1  
  
My gut twisted as it had never done before.  
I don't know where this feeling came from... but I'd felt it before. It was a sort of sickness that I felt. My love stirred next to me and put her arm around me, asking me to go back to sleep.  
"No, my nefar," I said, and reached out for my only weapons, a small axe and a throwing stick. I stood up, looking around.  
But something told me to stop looking. Instead, I felt. I could feel around me. There were few plants or animals nearby. We were in a small rocky sheltered place in the desert.  
There was something nearby.  
I almost didn't get any warning. A sudden pang in my insides caused me to double over, and I heard something whistle over my head. I stood up and returned the throw with my stick, but I don't think I hit anything.  
The next moment he was on top of me, swinging a short sword. I caught his wrist with my free hand, and swung my axe at his midsection. He grabbed my wrist as well.  
I heard my love scream something, but I was too busy to take note. I grappled with the intruder, neither one of us able to bring a weapon to bear on the other.  
Then I tripped. A rock caught my toe, and I fell forward. Both blades drew blood, but I rolled away in time to prevent his following swing. As I regained my feet, I almost fell again.  
As I looked up at the face of this intruder, my heart almost stopped beating. At first I had not been able to see his face. The only light was from the flickering embers of the fire behind me. But now my shadow was not towards him, and I saw who I faced. I had cheated him once before. I could not get away this time.  
  
My eyes snapped open to the sight of an in-flight movie. The horrifying godlike visage was gone.  
My fear remained. I turned to see a pair of dark blue eyes looking back at me. A lovely young girl... no, a woman, sat next to me. She inquired about my dream. I told little, besides the fact that it was a recurring dream I have had for quite some time.  
She has no idea how long.  
We trade small talk for a few hours. I find that she will be staying at the same hotel as I am, and we agree to travel together until we get there. She seems approachable, but after dreaming of my love, I know that she will never compare.  
Soon the pilot announces that the plane is over the mediteranian, near Crete. We will arrive in Egypt soon.  
We will arrive in the place I had not been to in almost a millenium.  
  
Over the last few hundred years, I have developed the habit of letting my mind wander on its own. If I am doing nothing, or even if I am doing something that doesn't require concentration, I find that I can do it as well. While talking to this young woman, with the unlikely name of River, I manage to stay fairly focused.  
I refuse to jump at shadows that have been gone for a thousand years.  
She tells me of the uncle who lives here who she has come to visit. She tells me of the college she attends. I listen well, and store this information for later. I may forget it in a month, or I may not.  
I tell her of my interest in Egypt. She comments that I look like I could have been an ancient egyptian.  
Few people do. She must know a great deal about egypt.  
I have dark skin, like most people picture egyptians as having. One thing that most people don't know is that when egypt was first populated, we were mostly red-haired and fair-skinned. The egyptians you see now are a crossbreed between the ancient egyptians, and the muslims that invaded after the Roman empire fell apart.  
I have dark skin, but light red hair.  
At the moment it is getting a bit long. It is just long enough to get in my eyes, but short enough to be managable.  
I grin childishly as she says it. I fumble for the anhk hanging around my neck and show it to her. She looks at it and judges it, rightly, as cheap, american-made crap.  
I manage to divert questions of whether or not I have been in Egypt. While I would be completely comfortable making up a story to fit the facts, normally I try to avoid things like that. Not only do I dislike lying, but it makes it impossible to be caught in a lie if you don't tell one.  
As the plane nears the airport, our conversation dies off as we vie for window space. Luckily, I am the one next to the window, so she has to lean over me to see out. I must admit, she is quite lovely.  
  
After getting our bags, she finds the nearest phone to call her uncle. He tells her to catch a cab, and he will be around at dinnertime to pick her up at the hotel. So she and I catch a cab together, and go up to the front desk together.  
As much as I'd like to wait and find out what room she is in, I am also anxious to get back to the privacy of my room. I have not survived for more than a thousand years without some amount of caution. And, although I am not unarmed, I do not have my customary sword with me. Someday I will devise a way to get it around the airport metal detectors. But for now it's stowed away in one of my suitcases.  
I let her go first to help ease my impatience. By coincidence, she is in the same room number as I am, but one floor below. We take the elevator together, and I walk her to her door, as any gentleman should. We promise to call each other's rooms when we are done unpacking, and I head back to the elevator.  
Finally, privacy.  
The first thing I do is find a place to put my sword, some place I can store it while I sleep where it will be accessible to me quickly, while at the same time, hidden from prying eyes or bed-making maids.  
The next thing I do is find a place on myself that I can store it. I know what the climate is like here. I came prepared.  
I have a long light overcoat, one that will act as a screen from the sun during the day, and will hold in heat during the night. My sword slides in it well.  
And it slides out just as easily.  
  
River and I seem to have hit it off better than I thought we did. Either she is very easy to impress, or I am simply getting better in my old age.  
She wants to bring me along to see her uncle tonight. I don't know whether to call it a date or not, and she's made no indications that she wishes to do anything with me, but I could be misreading. I've been alive for over a thousand years. The concept of 'dating' hasn't.  
We spend time together, talking and flipping through the limited channels on the TV. Neither one of us spoke the native language well, but we could both understand it with some difficulty.  
As we both begin to grow hungry, her uncle shows up. He is a well-educated man, a man of no small importance both in the museum and the archaology world. He is currently in charge of a small digsite, and he is bringing all of his finds directly to the museum to be catologued. After conversing with him quite a bit, I find him to have the heart of an adventurer, but the soul and body of a paper-pusher.  
We eat, and enjoy our meal. And although things seem to be going well, I still feel something in my gut... perhaps, even after all this time, I'm still not ready to be back here.  
  
  
See this story and others on my homepage, http://tirade.tripod.com/fanfic/highlander.html 


	2. Chapter 2

Highlander: Osiris  
Homecoming  
Chapter 2  
  
The embers flicker in my memory as I hold my love in my arms. Danger flickers with it. I throw my stick and weild my axe the best I can. But I am frozen in horror as I face down my demon.  
Anubis. The god who brings mortals to the underworld.  
But I am immortal. He cannot harm me. His overconfidence, his belief that I am frozen with fear works to his disadvantage. Suddenly I swing my axe, and it bites into his stomach. My love scramble to her feet and grabs a rock to throw, but because the demon and I are so close, she cannot get an open shot.  
Blood pours from the wound. He can be hurt. He can be killed. He doubles over in pain, and slashes his sword at me. I jump back, and then run past him, swinging my axe behind me. It leaves a mark on his back. One last feeble swing of his I parry, then chop at his shoulder. He falls to the ground.  
Have I killed a god?  
  
Once again I awake to the sight of something other than that fearsome visage.  
This is the first time since the incident happened that I have had that dream two nights in a row. Normally I have it only a few times a century.  
I am still afraid. And I am willing to admit that much.  
Fear is something most immortals have forgotten. In their long lives, they know that the there is only one way they can die. And once they survive their first hundred years, they start losing any fear they might have had as a mortal.  
I am one of the few exceptions. I have lived longer than most immortals. Yet somehow I have taken fewer heads than most. The average immortal will take a head at least a dozen times in a decade. I have taken that many in a century.  
I must admit, I was lucky to survive that first hundred years.  
Lucky especially that I was afraid to travel west instead of east.  
To the ancient egyptians, the west is where the land of the dead, Duat, is. In reality, it is where Europe is. Europeans know little of self-defense. They swung heavy clubs as weapons until they learned how to forge swords, then they replaced the wooden clubs with metal blades, and swung them just as clumisly.  
But in the east, the persians used long thing slashing blades and wore little armor. They developed swordplay to a higher skill than the simple bash and stab of the west. Further east lies asia. There I studied tai chi sword techniques, and learned how to use weapons other than my scimitar. But even after so many years in asia, I still kept my long curved blade at hand.  
When I finally made my way to Europe, I was fortunate to survive. Right before the American revolution, I sensed the effect it would have on the country I was in at the time, France.  
And I was right. No one knows exactly how many immortals perished by the hand of madame guillotine. I know of seven by reputation, and one more personally.  
My skill with weapons was learned. My strength was inherited from an immortal I killed.  
Nothing is more painful than feeling the searing pain of the Quickening... especially when the man you slaughtered, the man whose essense you are absorbing was one who you once called 'friend'.  
After that, I went to a land where the revolution used guns, not public beheadings. I went to America.  
America was far in the west. It took me years to get over my fear. Now that I have gone back east, back to Egypt, that fear has come back to me.  
  
Sunlight streams in the window. River and I were up late last night.  
It is not often that I meet someone who I can stay interested in for too long. She is one of those few.  
I let my thoughts straighten out as I slowly pull myself out of bed. Last night was certainly enjoyable. The two of us simply... talked. It took a moment for me to remember that we were in her room, not mine, since they both face the same direction. I made sure I had an eastward facing room when I got my reservation.  
My shirt is still on. That is good. I don't like having to explain my scars. The sound of the shower can be heard through the thin wall. A moment later, she comes out wearnig only a towel.  
I manage to pull the sheet up enough to hide my natural reaction to the sight of her in such a state. Her shoulder length hair glistened with wetness and clung to her slender neck in a way that framed her face... I had tried not to notice how pretty she was before, but it was hard not to now.  
"Oh, good." She said, "You're awake. I've already had breakfast, but my uncle will be by in an hour to bring me to see his digsite. He said I could bring someone else if I wanted to."  
She smiled at me, and I knew that if I were to say no and give no explanation why, she would take offense.  
I really had no reason not to go. My plans for this trip had been to get a hotel room, tour the city for a few days, then head out into the desert on my own. There's no reason why I couldn't tour for that short while with River.  
I hurredly eat something and brush my teeth before her uncle arrives. I finally also managed to catch his name this time. Apparently the odd names run in the family.  
"Uncle Forrest is the one who managed to get funding for this dig. It is a dig that no one expected would be especially profitable." River told me when we were in the car.  
Her uncle interejected, "And so far they've been right. But still, every small find we make, and we have found many small things, brings us closer to understanding how the people lived back then."  
"How old is this site?" I asked.  
"Very recent, actually." Forrest told me, "It is from the latest period, the time when the romans had taken over, but the egyptian ways were still practiced, and in some cases, taken up by the romans."  
"The Ptolmaic era, then?" I asked.  
"Yes. I'm impressed. Siris, what do you know about ancient egypt?"  
"I've been around." I replied.  
I think I've mentioned it before, but I don't like to lie. So I simply don't elaborate on the truth.  
One good thing may come of this trip. This site seems to be only marginally older than I am. Perhaps I will find out how many years I have been on this earth. That is one answer that has eluded me. I don't know the year I was born. I was a peasant with little education beyond the basic tenats of my religion. I know I was close to twenty when I first died and found that I was immortal. But how many years have passed since then I can only guess.  
When people ask, I simply tell them that it has been at least a thousand.  
"So how many years old would you say that this site is?"  
"Well..." he hesitates, "Different artifacts are of different ages, but they all are from around the same time period, mostly from the two pharos before Cleopetra. That would make them about two thousand one hundred years old."  
I had left Egypt well before the romans ever entered. I was entering asia around the time that happened. That was almost a hundred years after I left a dying Egypt, slowly drying up and falling apart after the death of the last great Pharoh, Ramses the third. His name was the last to be praised and carved on walls. The last lines of pharos had been weak. Egypt had split in two, then was taken over several times. I cannot remember the name of the pharoh in my time, but he was one of the persian invaders who had chased out our previous invaders, the assyrians.  
I finally managed to work the assyrians and the persians into the conversation. He gave me a date of the first persian invasion.  
525 B.C. was the year he gave me.  
I am older than Jesus.  
How long had I been gone? How long have I been here?  
I was wrong. The romans came into egypt two hundred years after I was in asia. The romans entered egypt during the time I was first learning how to use a blade other than my scimitar.  
  
See this story and others on my homepage, http://tirade.tripod.com/fanfic/highlander.html 


	3. Chapter 3

Highlander: Osiris  
Homecoming  
Chapter 3  
  
Silence comes easily to me, especially when I am digesting information.  
I am over two thousand years old. I am half as old as the legendary Methos.  
I simply never realized. If I had battled my way through history, like so many other immortals, I would be the most powerful immortal in the world. Then again, had I battled my way through time, I would more likely be dead. I was not born a warrior, like the most famous of immortals, Conner McCloud, and his defeated foe, Kurgan.  
I could very well be even older than the Kurgan. I know McCloud's teacher and mentor, Ramirez was older than me by some small amount of time. I had met him. The last time I saw him was when I lived in England. He travelled off to Scotland, and there he died, after teaching McCloud how to be an immortal. When I found out about Ramirez' death, I knew the Kurgan was the one who did it.  
No one else could have at the time. Ramirez was older than I, and he had fought countless many battles. Kurgan could take my head with little effort.  
So I fled to France, and lived there until America became America. Fear can be a great motivation.  
Have I wasted my long life? I tell those who know me that I am more than a thousand years old. I have never stopped to compare the dates. It just seemed right.  
Then again, two hundred years ago, I told people the same number.  
And two hundred years before that.  
An image comes to my mind... an ancient god, holding two bent reeds in his hand, his arms outward... my hands move to my anhk on my neck.  
Heh, the god of a million years. And my anhk... cheap, american made crap... but to my homeland, a symbol of life.  
Would I live for a million years?  
I could live forever.  
I suppose it was my fault... I never tried to keep track of the years. After my love died of old age, I wandered about. I didn't know what was over the next hill, or beyond the next valley. I never really crossed any water greater than a large lake until I left Europe. I never really took any chances.  
I didn't live. For more than two thousand years, I didn't live.  
  
We come to the camp outside the digsite, and I relax a bit. I force myself not to think of anything other than what is on hand.  
Somehow River manages to get her arm linked to mine, and walk with me as we enter the camp. Her uncle calls us to one of the two biggest tents in the camp.  
"We have two of these big tents here. One is the mess hall, and this one is where we store and clean artifacts before we ship them off to the museum."  
He opens the curtain and brings us in. Truly, I feel awed by all this. I know it is from a time far after mine, but it impresses me nonetheless.  
He brings us to the most important of the finds.  
"We found this wooden cabinet, badly rotted away. It must have been in an unusually damp place to have gotten so much damage, but the inside was intact. And we found these."  
He gestures towards a group of small statues. They are all miniatures of gods.  
"These are the oldest things we've found here." He tells us. "They must have been in this house for generations. We date them back to more than three thousand years ago."  
They are older than I. A comforting thought. I look them over and recognize the diminuative Bes and the crocodile, Sobek. Bastet the cat is there... next to...  
I feel the quickening in my gut once more. My thoughts flash to the memory... the dream...  
"Anubis." I say out loud, not meaning to.  
"Yes." Forrest says, "Anubis, carrier of the dead. His likeness is not one you would expect to find in a small household."  
He prattles on for a moment, but my thoughts are lost in my otherworldy senses.  
It was not my imagination. An immortal approaches.  
I steel myself as I hear the tent flap thrown aside. A man enters.  
Immortal as I.  
"Ah," Forrest says, not sensing anything amiss, "This man is the one who truly runs this site. I helped set it up, but he keeps up the day to day duties, and oversees the actual work. This is Pierre Bouchard. Pierre, this is my neice, River, and a friend of hers, Siris."  
We exchange greetings, but refuse to lock eyes. He is a clean-cut man, but covered in dust and dirt. Apparently he believes in working alongside his men.  
At his side is a navy-style curved sword. He wears it as if it were a badge of honor... it very well might be. His tight-backed stance and bristled haircut seem military enough.  
"Navy man?" I ask politely.  
"A few times. I'm retired at the moment, and working here. The U.S. Navy will pay for college after a few years of service, so I managed to study egyptology on their money."  
I see him taking me in as I take him in. He can see that my loose jacket probably conceals a weapon. He can't see it, but he suspects it's there.  
Then I see it. As we walk away, I watch his movements.  
You can learn a lot about a person from his movements.  
He walks stiffly, as many ex-military men do. But his movements are unsure. He has been alive for less than two hundred years. Possibly less than a hundred.  
The oldest of us waste very little motion. Everything we do is precise, and efficient. His movements were precise, but he still lacked the efficiancy that marks one who is ancient.  
I will not take his head, unless I have no choice. He is too young. I am too old. It would be no contest. He is probably only on his first new life. By new life I mean, of course, the new name and identity we all have to take on every fifty years or so to avoid suspicion.  
But there is nothing we can do about it. We simply have to trade nicities until such time as we can speak alone.  
All in all, it was a fairly enjoyable tour. I hope it doesn't have to end with a police discovery of a headless body.  
  
That night, I set the mosquito netting. We're close enough to the nile to have to worry about such things. I lie in bed, confident that no one can enter without my knowing. The tingle on my senses is far away, indicating that Bouchard is on the other side of the camp.  
Suddenly the tent flap moves. A figure comes in.  
River.  
She shyly asks permission to enter. I grant it, and light the torch sitting by my bed. But I keep it low enough to hide my scars.  
I have already taken my shirt off. I have no wish to explain them.  
She sits on the cot next to me, and we talk. Suddenly, she lies her head on my shoulder.  
My arm slips around her waist as if it belonged there. She murmers something unintelligible into my hear, then our lips melt together.  
The night settles around us, but we hardly notice.  
Is it love? I don't know. It could be.  
But we don't really care.  
And as we lie together, I fall into a comfortable sleep once more.  
  
See this story and others on my homepage, http://tirade.tripod.com/fanfic/highlander.html 


	4. Chapter 4

Highlander: Osiris  
Homecoming  
Chapter 4  
  
Anubis lies dead at my feet. His hollow eyes stare up at me, empty. My bloody axe smacks into his carcass.  
I have defeated death twice.  
I turn to my love, who cowers in horror. She has been with me both times I have conquered death. But this time, the blood is on my hands.  
I have killed another.  
I rush to comfort her, and she forces the axe from my hands. I hold her in the cold air, and whisper sweet nothings in her ear.  
"Oh, my love," she sobbed, "I thought I'd lost you again. I couldn't bear to lose you twice."  
  
I awake once more to sunlight streaming into my vision. My love is gone...  
My love? No, I see her, slipping into her clothes. She is just out of sight of the tent flap, in case someone comes in suddenly. I put my shirt on and slip a pair of pants on after.  
She doesn't speak of my scars. Instead she gives me a kiss, then apologizes for her morning breath.  
I hardly noticed. She is quite lovely, especially for someone who just awoke.  
I couldn't resist telling her so, either. She smiled shyly and gave me a quick kiss. I was about to pull her back and force another one out of her when I felt the presense of an immortal.  
Instead, I grabbed her hand and we walked out together. Bouchard was standing there, trying to figure out how to knock on a cloth door when we stepped out. He invited us to come and see the newest part of the digsite. We both grabbed a pastry from the mess hall and munched on them on the way there.  
Once at the dig site, we were shown a table full of small objects that had been pulled out since the sun rose that morning. Mostly trinkets in all, but I recognized one small piece as a small part of a sarcophogus.  
I called it to Bouchard's attention, and right as he was about to explain, Forrest came up behind us.  
"I see you've noticed our prize piece. This looks like it came from a roman sarcophogus. We hope to find the entire sarcophogus somewhere below. This seems to be a small private burial ground, not unheard of in the roman era."  
"I didn't realize that mummification was one of the things the romans borrowed from the egyptians.", I replied.  
He chuckled, "Well, it wasn't too popular. Still, it happened."  
Suddenly, there is a frantic burst of jabbering from down below us. Bouchard runs down to investigate, while the three of us walk down slowly. I see River's uncle take note of our intertwined fingers, but he doesn't mention anything.  
The opening to a small room had just been unearthed. Bouchard lights a candle and steps in. We follow with flashlights.  
"A candle?" I ask.  
He laughs. "You seem to know a lot about egypt, but not much about archaology."  
I admit as much.  
"Well," he says, "Often the air inside a tomb is simply bad. If the candle does anything strange, especially if it goes out, we know that the air is poisonous. It seems to be fine, though."  
We walk inside, and find it to be a small room with a sarcophogus inside. Unlike the ones from my youth, this one is simple, with few spells written on the outside. On the top is a picture of a man. Once it had been brightly colored and lifelike. Now it was ancient.  
But even this was younger than me.  
Forrest called River over to see something else back farther in the tunnel. So, naturally, I turned to Pierre and tried to strike up a conversation.  
"It must make it easier when you have a good reason to carry your sword in plain view."  
"Much so." he said, and grinned at me. Then he went back to examining the sarcophogus. He inspected the corner, where a piece had broken off. It seemed the same size as the piece they had found earlier, so he grunted and stood up.  
"Is Siris your real name?" he asked.  
I laughed. "My real name is so old even I don't remember it. My mother called me her little bee. That would be 'bit' in my language."  
It took him a moment, but then he caught it. "You're an ancient egyptian?"  
"Yes. I didn't realize just how old I was until yesterday, when I asked Forrest for some basic dates. I'm almost five hundred years older than Christ."  
He was silent for a moment. "I'm glad I didn't try to challenge you, then."  
I laughed again. "Yes, you should be glad. I am too. I like River. I'd hate to have to lose her because of a sudden murder investigation at the wrong time. Back in the day, a headless body didn't raise much of a problem. But nowadays police are always poking their noses into such matters."  
"And you would know."  
"Yes, I've done my share of killing. But I've done much less than you would think. Especially for an immortal as old as I am."  
He was silent for a moment, so I continued.  
"But yes, this name is the first name I gave myself after I fled Egypt. Or rather, this is the english version of it."  
"You were Osiris?"  
"Only in name. I'm not that old." I lifted my shirt to show my scars. "I was first killed by being chopped to pieces. Luckily they left my head on my shoulders, otherwise I wouldn't be here today. When my love found me, she had no idea what to do. Originally she had planned to hide my remains until I could be properly mummified. But when she touched my severed arm, it was still warm."  
Revulsion showed on his face. I'm used to that by now. "She... put you back together?"  
"Yes. And when I awoke two days later, she was even more terrified. But together we fled Egypt. After we left, we called ourselves Osiris and Isis. No one else knew what the names meant, so I suppose it was just arrogance on our part."  
"Why did you come back?"  
"Because it's there. This is my first time setting foot in Egypt since I left, almost twenty five hundred years ago."  
"Wow." was all he could say.  
"How old are you?"  
He shrugged. "An infant compared to you."  
I grinned. "I could tell that much."  
"Originally I was french canadian. My family moved to America, and I first died in a car accident in the sixties. When I first changed my name, I knew I was interested in Egyptology, so I chose the name Pierre Bouchard."  
"Who was that?"  
He smiled. "Most people, even archaologists don't get the connection. Major Pierre Bouchard was in charge of a small portion of Napoleon's forces. His force was one of the ones in Egypt when Napoleon hoped to take over the suez canal."  
"The rosetta stone?"  
"Yes. His force was the one that found the Rosetta stone."  
River called us over to where she and her uncle had been looking.  
"It looks like there's a door over here. It's sealed, too."  
We followed her down the passageway, and we saw Forrest marking the spot with light chalk. "We'll have to get some tools before we break in. There might be something delicate under all this dirt."  
  
See this story and others on my homepage, http://tirade.tripod.com/fanfic/highlander.html 


	5. Chapter 5

Highlander: Osiris  
Homecoming  
Chapter 5  
  
River and I had to step out while other workers came in. As they cleaned the door, they saw only a small prayer written in heiroglyphics, a prayer to Anubis, asking him to take the mummy in the other room safely to Duat.  
Finally, we were allowed to watch as they opened it. A puff of stale air came out, but Pierre's candle only flickered for a moment. He suggested we wait until the stale air clears out, just in case.  
River was a bit fidgety during that time, but I am used to waiting. I slid my hand around her waist and kissed her on the cheek, and she smiled up at me.  
After fifteen minutes Pierre and Forrest agreed that it was probably safe to enter. They went in first, and we followed.  
The room was surprisingly small. At the most, twenty feet long and ten feet wide. There were heiroglyphics on the wall, and at the end, there was a statue of Anubis.  
It took a moment for me to regain my composure.  
A life-sized statue of Anubis. His hands were out, unlike the typical Egyptian statue pose, they lay flat. Across his palms rested a staff.  
It was what we egyptians called a 'was'. It has a long barb at the bottom end, and the top is a curved shape, usually resembling that of a dog or jackal's head. This was no exception. But as we stepped closer, we found that it was not part of the statue.  
It was a long metal pole, with sharp barbs, and a hideously razor edged top.  
"Amazing." muttered Forrest. "I could be wrong, but it looks like those are bloodstains there."  
He pointed to the tip of the was. I looked closer, and he was right.  
Pierre spoke up, "Would it be possible to do a genetic test? Compare the blood on this to the mummy?"  
Forrest shook his head. "We could, but I don't see the point. This was probably just something the romans added to the mummification ceremony. They probably had a priest dress as Anubis and sacrifice an animal or something. But I can have it tested."  
I wanted to agree with Forrest. But still, after we finally left, I managed to corner Pierre alone.  
"Where did that come from?" I asked. "Why would the weapon that murdered that man be left in his own grave?"  
He was silent for a moment. Then he said, "There is something out there, Siris. Something ancient. I've felt the quickening before you came. Several headless bodies have been found in the desert. Some were dried up, and several years old. Some were new."  
"And just two weeks ago, an immortal I knew well was killed in Egypt."  
I could tell that he hadn't told me quite everything, but I guessed what he hadn't said. "Who was he?"  
"She." He corrected. "She taught me what it was to be immortal. If it weren't for her, I would not know who I am. I would not carry a sword. And I would probably have lost my head by now."  
I squeezed his shoulder gently. "Just remember, even when decapitated, an immortal never completely dies. Whoever takes the head of your mentor's killer will absorb a small part of her."  
He turned away, and then I realized one last detail that he hadn't revealed.  
They had been lovers. Or at least, he had been in love with her. If she had not returned his love, then that was all the more reason for him to grieve.  
Whoever first said that it is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all obviously never loved and lost.  
  
The two of us circled around inside a small sand pit. Around us were high piles of excess sand, and no one nearby.  
"Just wear something that can get bloody and dirty if it needs to." I had told Pierre.  
So far, in ten minutes of us sparring, I had 'killed' him some number close to ten times.  
I hadn't drawn much blood so far, I'm good at stopping my blade short of it's target.  
But he was still mumbling about the cut I'd put on his wrist. When he attacked me, I had simply deflected his blade, cut his wrist, and when he tried to step away and give his sword arm time to heal, he found my blade at his throat.  
"With a curved blade like yours and mine, remember that a long slash is often more effective than a simple cut. If you draw the blade across your target, it can cut deeper than if you simply swing it with all your strength."  
"Easy for you to say," he snorted. "My sword is only one handed. I can only use half my strength."  
"Not true." I said. "If you need the strength, and you're willing to sacrifice freedom of movement, you can wrap your left hand around your right, or lock your left hand on your right wrist."  
"But you can fit both hands on your blade."  
"Every blade has advantages and disadvantages. I prefer mine because it has all the advantages of a longsword, with the sharp edge of a katana."  
"And mine?"  
"Yours has advantages. The best advantage is not the one in battle, though. The best advantage is the fact that you can carry it as a badge of honor, and no one will look twice. The rest of us are constrained to use whatever blades we can hide on our person."  
He smiled. "Yes, that was a smart move on my part."  
"Well, in all fairness, you grew up in this century. We didn't."  
"A fat lot of good that does me. These kids nowadays... I tried to use a computer once, really I tried. But it didn't work. I just couldn't do it."  
I laughed at that one. "To tell you the truth, they don't bother me too much. I bought a computer when they started to get cheap. It just sits in the corner. I know how to use the mouse, and how to use the keyboard, and that's about it."  
"You got me beat, then." He shook his head. "The keyboard was easy enough... but whenever someone tried to teach me how to use the damn machine, they'd get tired of watching me slowly drag the mouse to where it belongs, and they'd take it from me and click for me."  
"Is your wrist healed now?"  
He looked down. "Completely."  
He whipped out his blade again, and held it up en guarde.  
I swing once, only holding my blade with one hand. His blade was forced aside, and I produced a knife from my sleeve and held it to his neck.  
"Here's another thing to remember... most immortals carry one weapon. But the more cautious ones, like me, carry a spare."  
He tried to knee me in the leg and throw me back, but I sensed the attack and turned into it, letting his knee hit the meaty part of my leg.  
"And don't expect someone who has lived through a hundred fights to fall for ANYTHING you do. Just fight straight and simple. Don't try anything special, unless it's meant to be nothing more than a distraction."  
We disentangled, and he watched as my knife disapeared.  
"What was that?"  
"A knife."  
"I know, but what is it made of? It didn't look like steel."  
"It wasn't. Carbon something-or-other. I keep it with me in case I need to pass through a metal detector."  
"One thing you need to learn, and learn quickly, before you lose your head: Use the different parts of your blade for different things. The tip of your blade is only to be used for a quick slash, or to divert and enemy's attack. Don't block, divert. The tip of your blade doesn't have the strength to do it. Now, when I just turned your blade aside so easily there, I did it because I used the base of my blade against the middle of yours. That gave me better leverage than you."  
"And the rest of the blade?"  
"The middle you use to block, but make sure your opponant can't do what I just did. Use the middle of your blade against the middle of theirs. Also, the middle is what you want to attack with if you see an opening. Especially with a curved blade like yours, it gives the best cut. And the base of the blade is what you want to block with whenever you get the chance. That will give you the leverage to turn their blade, and hopefully make a quick thrust or swing."  
We sparred for a few more moments, but it was getting towards the time when we would have to return to camp.  
Finally, we put our swords away. After we had done so, I asked him, "Have you taken your first?"  
"My first what?"  
"Your first immortal's head. Have you used your blade yet?"  
"Yes. Once."  
"And how many had he killed?"  
"I don't know." he looked down at his blade, remembering. "He grew up in the old west in the early 1800s. He got his sword as an army man, in the civil war. I don't know which side. He had killed many mortals, but only a few immortals, I think."  
"You were lucky."  
"I know. He could have killed me, but he decided to toy with me first. He didn't expect me to recover so quickly."  
The two of us walked back to camp. He grabbed his discarded jacket to hide the bloodstains on his shirt.  
"You were lucky." I told him, "Most immortals die in their first fight against an immortal. After that, our chances of survival go up tenfold."  
  
See this story and others on my homepage, http://tirade.tripod.com/fanfic/highlander.html 


	6. Chapter 6

Highlander: Osiris  
Homecoming  
Chapter 6  
  
River, Forrest and I drove back to the museum in the truck carrying most of the objects found at the site in the last few days. Among them, well padded and in a safe place, was the casket we found.  
Forrest was describing the procedure they would use to examine the mummy. "It's amazing.", he said. "We won't even open up the casket at first, and we'll still be able to examine the mummy. Better, perhaps, than if we unwrapped it. We simply have a scanner that looks like one of those CAT scans in the hospitals, and it creates a 3-d image we look at on the computer."  
Unconsiouly, I shuddered. Computers again. I suppose I'll have to get used to them. They'll be running just about everything in the future.  
Luckily Forrest had called ahead, so while the museum people were unloading the truck, we were following the cart that held the casket. We were all interested to see what it looked like inside, and the museum had the machine ready to scan it.  
We were able to watch the computer monitor as the scan started. They decided to start at the bottom of the sarcophogus and work their way up. The details filled the screen, very slowly, but we began to see details. While we were watching the mummy take form, one of the computer technicians tried to explain the process to us. I simply nodded and smiled.  
The mummy was wrapped up in the normal way, there was no sign of anything strang until we got to the upper thigh. There was a long slash across his left thigh, and when the mummy dried it had pulled open. The cut must have happened shortly before or after death. It was too smooth to be a simple tear in the mummy.  
My mind flicked back to the 'was' staff we found along with the mummy...  
As the scan slowly got higher, we found another wound in the abdomen. We almost missed it, since most of the internal organs are removed in the mummification process, but it was there, Two stab wounds, next to each other... then a twist. Someone had expertly gored this man with the end of the 'was' and twisted... breaking his spine in two. That takes a lot of strength.  
I held my breath as the scan reached the top of the shoulders... the base of the neck...  
Then nothing. There was only swaddling and wrapping above the base of the neck.  
The head had been cut cleanly off. And it had not been buried with the mummy. That could mean only one thing.  
In my mind's eye I pictured it...  
  
An ancient immortal, lived in Rome, or at least joined the roman army at some point. When the romans entered Egypt, he sensed the passage of a powerful immortal. Fearful, but also hopeful, he deserted his army. He walked into the desert. For days the sand stung his eyes, and the sun burned his skin.  
Then he felt the sense of another immortal. He found an oasis, or at least a sheltered spot and... no. That couldn't be. They would never have found his body if he had fought in the desert.  
Perhaps it was the other way around. While traveling through the desert, another immortal sensed him. The soldier was followed into Alexandria or some roman city in Egypt, and the two of them fought in the streets... no one thought to stop the man who killed him because...  
Because he was a god. Because Anubis himself travelled the streets of Alexandria with a 'was' in his hand, and took this man to the underworld. That's why he was mummified. The roman army had stood by, helpless, and watched this Egyptian monster take his head, then they had him buried in the Egyptian way.  
And he left behind his 'was'. Why? As a message of sorts? Or was he wounded, and he crawled away with nothing more than his head still attached to his body?  
There are some things best left unknown. If I can avoid tangling with this monster, all the better.  
It's hard to believe that something has been out there, roaming the desert, taking heads for at least as long as I've been alive.  
  
Clutched in the mummy's right hand was a bronze short sword. Roman make, most likely. Lying on his chest was his shield.  
I was right, he was a roman soldier. The poor bastard never had a chance. He might have even been on his first life. He might not have even known that he was immortal until he joined the army and died in battle.  
As I got over my shock, I tried to act as puzzled as the rest of them were. I don't know if anyone noticed that I wasn't sincere. I've had thousands of years to practice my acting. And I haven't known River long enough for her to read me too well.  
The sarcophogus itself was carted away to perform the genetic testing Pierre had requested. Fortunately, they weren't going to have to break into the sarcophogus itself. The small piece that had broken off was big enough to stick a needle in and get a sample through the wrappings.  
We were told that we would have results by the end of the next day.  
I am patient. But I think I already know what the result will be.  
My only question is whether the short sword in the mummy's hand drew blood or not.  
  
Pierre sat down and unrolled rubbing paper. If he understood it correctly, this particular inscription told how the mummy had died. Laborously, he compared the symbols he didn't recognize with those in a book he had with him.  
Finally, he was done. He massaged his face with his hands, then walked out of the tent, heading towards the tent that held the radio.  
  
One of the people from the museum finally managed to relay his message to us. "Mr. Bouchard called for you, he asked for you to come, and to bring your niece and her friend with you."  
"All right." Forrest said, "As soon as we're done with some of the labeling. We found a lot of small artifacts in that burial chamber."  
"It sounded urgent, sir. He wants you there right away."  
"Very well, I'll leave the photographs of the tomb, so you can see where everything was. But I'll be back later to finish the labelling."  
River spoke up, "I wonder what he found? I mean, why would he ask for the two of us to come with you, specifically?"  
I knew. He couldn't just ask me to come, so he had to ask for River and her uncle as well.  
The trip was quicker, we took one of the trucks back, but because it was empty we made better time.  
We got back and Pierre had two pieces of paper to show us. The first was the heiroglyphics, and the second was the translation.  
"This tells how the soldier died. I don't want to get the word out quite yet, but apparently he was a roman soldier."  
Pierre continued to tell the story exactly as I had imagined it. A soldier, passing through the desert. According to his comrades, he had died in battle, and mysteriously not crossed over completely into death. When he got to Egypt, he met up with his death a second time.  
But there was one detail I hadn't counted on.  
"According to this, he was killed by Anubis himself... but Anubis wasn't the one who took his head."  
Pierre looked me in the eye as he said the next part. "His head was taken by Shesmu. That's who the staff belongs to, not Anubis. Eyewitnesses said that Anubis killed him the second time, to make up for his oversight. Then Shesmu took his head right there. A great cry of fury arose around them, and when they were done they simply walked out into the desert, heading west."  
Now there were two of them.  
  
See this story and others on my homepage, http://tirade.tripod.com/fanfic/highlander.html 


	7. Chapter 7

Highlander: Osiris  
Homecoming  
Chapter 7  
  
"Offand, it seems absolutely ridiculous. A roman, slain by an egyptian god." Forrest looked at the rubbing of the original heiroglyphics, but saw no outright inconsistancies between it and the translation. "But looking at that mummy..."  
"Shesmu." I said.  
Pierre looked at me, and I nodded. "The body had no head?", he asked.  
"Shesmu." I repeated, "The headsman of the underworld. Not a well known diety, in the later periods."  
I knew firsthand. He was myth in my day. No one worshipped him. After archaology progressed, I found that in my mythology, his job was slowly replaced over the centuries by that of the Devourerer of the Dead, a creature that was part hippopotomus, part crocodile, and part lion. If the heart of the dead was unworthy, he quickly devoured it.  
But Shesmu came from an older time.  
"Yes." Pierre said. "Shesmu. He took the heads of those who did not deserve to live a second life."  
Forrest took a moment to finish his train of thought. "No mere mortal would have the strength to break a man's back like that. No wonder they thought it was a god."  
It took me a moment before I realized it. They knew. They knew that Pierre was an immortal. Perhaps the two of them had known his mentor as well. They were guarding their speech for me. Pierre hadn't told them about me.  
"It's alright." he said. "You can speak your mind. Siris knows of my kind."  
His kind. He wanted to let me tell them if I wanted to, but for now all they knew was that he was an immortal, and I knew that. But River had seen my scars... last night... her hands running across my chest... she must have at least felt them in the darkness as we lay together.  
No matter. It is nice to speak freely.  
"Two immortals. Anubis and Shesmu. Shesmu is the weaker." I said.  
Forrest turned to me. "What makes you say that?"  
"This roman was young. The text right there says that. He was still on his first life. Anubis defeated him, then let Shesmu take his small amount of power."  
Pierre spoke up. "That's pretty much what the text said. Heavily layered with local religion and superstition, but it fits."  
"I don't know.", River interjected. "It could have been that Shesmu lets Anubis do the dirty work, then takes the power."  
"Possible," I replied, "but I personally disagree."  
"Why?"  
I slipped my jacket off, letting my scimitar fall out of it. Then I quickly whipped my shirt off, and showed my scars.  
And the one scar on my front that doesn't fit in with the rest of them. It does not mark a spot where I was torn apart. It is a single slash that happened shortly after.  
I pointed it out. "Anubis gave me this scar."  
"More than two thousand years ago."  
  
From the way they reacted, I got the impression that not only did they know that Pierre was immortal, but they knew how young he was. Instantly I was given control of the conversation.  
I lay down in my bunk, thinking back to the conversation.  
First was my storytelling. Even though Pierre had heard most of the story, he was silent until I was finished. I delighted in noting River's reaction to the mention of my first love. She had thought I was as young as she, and she had held some hope of being my first love.  
I told them how I died. How I cheated death twice.  
How after I killed Anubis, an hour later he rose and attacked me again. My love and I fled through the desert. I threw a rock at him, and he sliced it in half with his sword. But a chunk hit him in the head and knocked him back. I leapt... he went down on his own sword. My axe chopped again and again...  
Then, covered in blood and sand, I ran again. My love ran with me. We went far, far enough that the winds would cover our tracks in the sand. By the time the sun rose we found shelter. We caught up on sleep, then walked until it was night again.  
It took countless days to cross the desert. Some days I would feel the quickening within me, and I knew our enemy was close. Other times it faded to nothing. By the time we reached the edge of the red sea, I knew we had lost our enemy. Death could not find me. We travelled through Persia, and at the end of her natural lifetime, my love died. I travelled on.  
My love... my nefara...  
Once again, my tent flap opened. Shyly, River stepped in.  
"Can I come in?"  
I gestured to the open spot on the bed, right in front of my stomach, as I was in a relatively fetal position. She came over and sat there.  
She began. "This morning I was hoping that... tonight we would... well..."  
I smiled. "Go all the way?"  
Looking at the ground, she said. "Yeah. I was hoping tonight would be something special."  
"And why can't it be?"  
"How old are you, really?"  
"I didn't really know until I spoke with your uncle. I suppose I'm about five hundred years older than Christ."  
"You've been in love before."  
"Yes."  
"How many times?"  
That question hit me. How many times?  
My first time had lasted through two lifetimes.  
But I have had hundreds of lifetimes to live. How many women have I been with? How many people have I cared for?  
Not many. In my thousands of years of life... I have truly loved a woman once. Perhaps this time will be my second.  
I reached out and gently caressed her cheek. "Once. But it can happen again."  
  
We made love that night. I'm sure if anyone was in the neighboring tents, they probably knew what was going on, too.  
How long ago had I met this girl? Could it be love?  
Yes. It could be. Perhaps not yet, but it could be.  
This is the first time in years I have made love to a woman like this, too. She knows immortals can't have children. She never even asked if I needed protection.  
I have only felt this kind of raw passion mixed with pure affection once... and that was with my first love.  
Asharu. The name that has not escaped my lips in millenia. Asharu.  
River.  
As we lay together that night, I dreamed.  
  
As Asharu and I left Egypt, we wandered through the desert, looking for an oasis... anything that would keep my love alive. My throat was parched, but I would survive. She would not.  
Suddenly, I felt it again.  
The quickening.  
I looked around and tried to feel where my enemy could be...  
And my gut told me that the sensation came from the oasis in the distance. The only way I could save my love's life.  
I had conquered death. I was ready to do the same for my love.  
We made our way to the oasis. I had my axe in hand, ready for anything. We came closer, and my gut twisted more.  
Finally, we saw a lone figure, sitting on a fallen tree stump. He gestured towards the water as we came close, but his hand never strayed far from the sword on his lap.  
The sword... I had never seen anything like it. And the man was a foreigner.  
He appeared to be a persian.  
The two of us drank our fill, then we turned to this stranger. He spoke to us in thickly accented Egyptian.  
"I hope you weren't planning on using that little thing to cut my head off." He gestured to my axe.  
"Why should I?" I replied.  
He only laughed. "You are as young as you look, I see that much. Perhaps I can help you."  
"I need no help from a foreigner! Your filthy kind has turned our great land into... into..."  
"Into a great land that is no longer ruled by an Egyptian pharoh?" He seemed amused at my response to him. Perhaps he was used to the way Egyptians treat foreigners.  
I lifted my axe threateningly. "I cannot die. Don't anger me!"  
Before I knew what happened, his sword lazily arced around and caught my axe under it's head. It flew through the air, landing ten feet behind the stranger.  
He stood, slowly, all the while holding his sword at his side. "You need help, boy, or else you'll never survive."  
I had no fear of him, even with his blinding speed. I could not die.  
But I marvelled at his sword. Longer than any I had seen before, it was long and slightly curved, with a vicious looking pointed tip, and it curved back into another point on the backside.  
This was my first look at a scimitar.  
He pulled another from his person. I could not tell where he had it hidden. It sailed throught he air, and I caught it by the hilt.  
"Fight me." he said.  
  
See this story and others on my homepage, http://tirade.tripod.com/fanfic/highlander.html 


	8. Chapter 8

Highlander: Osiris  
Homecoming  
Chapter 8  
DD  
DDI fought with no fear. This was not Anubis. He was not going to bring me to the land of the dead.  
DDHe could not.  
DDA dozen times he deflected my blade and I felt the edge of his blade caress my skin. My love simply stood back and watched the swordplay.  
DDIt was like nothing I had ever seen. In Egypt, the fights were not so stylized. Soldiers carried a shield and a weapon. Usually a soldier strapped his shield to his arm, so he could carry a small axe like the one I use in that hand, and then a sword or spear in the free hand.  
DDThis was nothing like that.  
DDI found myself laughing as we danced. The sun set, and sweat was still pouring from my as we swung our blades in a rowdy display of speed and power.  
DDFinally, we put away our weapons. He gave me a leather sheath to put it in, and he told me what the fantastically long steel blade was called.  
DDScimitar, or Shamshir. He promised to teach me more in the morning.  
DD"Just remember this," he told me. "you are immortal. But if your head is cut off, you will die. There are many that would prey on a young immortal like you. I will help you if I can. I will teach you what I can. Then it's up to you."  
DDSuddenly, his blade was out of its sheath and under my chin. "And don't call me a foreigner. I've simply been gone for a long time."  
  
DDEvery immortal has a mentor. Someone has to teach them to fight other immortals. Someone must tell them the basic rules.  
DDImmortals cannot fight on holy ground. That is a law older than any living immortal.  
DDAnd whatever happens, keep your head on your shoulders. An immortal who loses sight of that, even for a moment, will end up dead.  
DDI snapped awake suddenly, feeling a sense of another immortal approaching... a familiar sense. Pierre.  
DDHe stood outside my tent, sensing that I was awake. For such a young immortal, he is unusually sensitive. That can be a good thing.  
DDA sensitive immortal is just as powerful as one who is strong of body.  
DDHe could have a good (and potentially long) future.  
DDI quickly slipped some clothes on, kissed River on the forehead, and slipped out of the tent. She was asleep, and didn't even notice that I had left.  
DD"What's up?" I asked first.  
DD"I was just wondering what you think of all this."  
DD"And how I was going to deal with it?"  
DDHe smiled. "That too."  
DD"How quickly can you get me back to my hotel room?"  
DD"There and back? At this time of night, if I drive like a maniac, a little more than an hour to get there and back."  
DD"All right. Let me get my coat, and then we can go. If you have a long coat or anything, I suggest you take it. I've got more weapons in my bags."  
DD"That sounds like a good start."  
DDHe guided me to his car. Much better than taking one of the big trucks back. Besides, a missing truck might bring unwanted eyes in our direction.  
DDTrue to his word, we arrived at the hotel in about thirty five minutes. He parked, and we both rushed to the elevator. I slid my keycard in my room, and went straight for my suitcase.  
DDIn the hidden compartment were several weapons. A pair of wakasashi and a katana slipped easily into my coat.  
DD"How are you with thrown weapons?" I asked him.  
DD"Decent. What do you have?"  
DDI held up a half-dozen sheaves and gave him three, along with a wrist sheath for them. The second sheathe I put on my left arm, and put the other three in it. "It's better than nothing, if you get them to stand at a distance."  
DDI also gave him my second carbon-whatsit knife, along with a wrist sheath for it. He wore a tan trenchcoat, one made to keep off the sun in a hot climate like this one, so the weapons disapeared on his person well. He already had his navy sword under it somewhere.  
DDI pointed to two of my custom made weapons, ones I use rarely. They have a name, but they are so rare that I cannot think of it. They consist of a handle, and then a blade that wraps around the hand. They are used like brass knuckles, but instead of causing bruises, they are surgically sharp. "Can you use these?" I asked.  
DD"I can try."  
DD"Good enough."  
DDI helped him find a place to put them in his jacket.  
DD"Is that all you have?" he asked.  
DD"No." I replied, "That's all I have with me. Except this."  
DDI opened up another part of the suitcase. Inside was a small claymore.  
DDFor those that know weapons, they will catch the oxymoron there. For those who don't... well, most claymores are at least five feet long. This one is less than four, from hilt to tip. It is also what the europeans called a 'bastard sword', meaning that it is of the right size that it can be used with one hand or two.  
DD"Can you use a weapon that isn't curved? This one will let you use two hands, if you can handle it."  
DD"I'll try." He said once again.  
DD"Good."I said, then slid it out of its sheath to show it to him. "This one is a little bulky, so it's hard to hide it in your coat. You'll have to have it on your back. Not as easy to get to in battle, but it will be there when you need it."  
DDWith that, we went back down to the car. In another thirty-five minutes, we were back at the camp.  
DD"You want to test out these weapons?" he asked once we got back.  
DD"Not yet." I said. "First of all, we both could use sleep. Second of all, the noise will go for a long distance during the night. There's no sound here other than the generators in the camp. During the day it can be mistaken for shovels and equipment."  
DD"All right." he said, "First thing in the morning, then?"  
DD"Of course."  
DDI slipped back into my tent and lay down next to River. She probably never knew I was even gone.  
  
DDMy dream... my memory resumed as I slept.  
DDThat night my love and I shared a tent, while my newfound teacher slept in another. We slept more soundly then than we had in the last several days.  
DDThe next morning the teaching began.  
DDI never knew his name. I never asked, and he never gave it. But he taught me what it was to be an immortal. And he taught me the basics of swordplay. The rest I had to learn before I lost my head.  
DDThen he left. He went into Egypt. He sought the very thing that had driven me out of Egypt. He was looking for the powerful immortal that roamed the desert. He sought Anubis.  
DDHe sought power. My Asharu and I were left to travel farther on our own. We travelled into Persian lands, and lived there until the end of her days.  
  
See this story and others on my homepage, http://tirade.tripod.com/fanfic/highlander.html 


	9. Chapter 9

Highlander: Osiris  
Homecoming  
Chapter 9  
  
DDRiver watched us as we circled the same sand pit we had sparred in the previous day. But this time, instead of using just one weapon, we were armed to the teeth.  
DDSweat and sparks flew. Suddenly, I gave my sword a twist, and slapped his sword right out of his hand. He reached into his coat and pulled out the two hand blades I had given him the night before.  
DDSurprisingly, despite his temporary disadvantage, he charged. Sparks flew from my scimitar as I intercepted his blades time and time again. Suddenly, I bolted forward, running past him. He turned to follow... then fell to the ground. As I had run past him, my scimitar had opened up a huge wound on his abdomen.  
DD"That's enough training for today." I said. River looked away as I tended his wound as best I could, and gave him back his sword. "Your rush was unexpected, and that is usually a good thing."  
DDHe grimaced. "Just not good enough this time."  
DD"Don't feel bad. I've been doing this a lot longer than you have."  
DD"Yeah," he managed to say, gritting his teeth through the pain, "But so have Anubis and Shesmu."  
DDI looked over his wound. "You're a fast healer for an immortal so young. You'll be fine in eight hours or so. And it won't even leave a mark."  
DDThe pain was starting to lessen, so he sat up on a rock and caught his breath. "Why do you still have your scars?"  
DDI had sensed it coming, so I had a few seconds to think about it. "I've always thought that it meant something. I know from other immortals that most scars, even those they had before they became immortal, will heal. But mine were a mark. Death had come for me. I escaped, but not unscathed."  
DDI looked down. We had only our pants on, to avoid any unnecissary cuts and rips in our clothes. In the middle of all of my scars I could see the one that was not connected to anything... the one left by Anubis himself.  
DD"I don't know why I still have mine. Scars are memories. My body remembers the past."  
  
DDForrest had been pouring over some of the documents found in the burial chamber. When we walked, (or hobbled, in Pierre's case) to his tent, he had a few pages of translations for us to look at.  
DD"It seems," he began, "that you were right. Anubis is the elder of the two. He is in charge, and this soldier died to help fuel the weaker of the two. These two immortals have been wandering the desert for millenia. Obviously no one who wrote any of these knew too much about them, but they were able to piece together bits and pieces from older documents and local hearsay. I'm sure half of it is nonsense, but some of this could be true."  
DDI skimmed over some of the translations. "You're right... most of this is simple superstition. But I'm sure some facts can be garnered from this."  
DDI was quick to point one such fact out. "Anubis has been roaming the desert for at least five thousand years, probably more. But this Shesmu is closer to my age. Or, at least, he only showed up around the time I was here. Since I didn't encounter him, I assume that he probably came around shortly after I left Egypt."  
DDPierre shook his head. "Great. So we have one immortal who's old enough to kill you pretty easily, and one that's old enough to kill me too."  
DDI simply smiled. "That's about the size of it. Unless you want to start travelling the world, looking for other immortals to help us, it's just the two of us against the two of them."  
DDRiver looked at the paper I had just pointed to, then looked to find the original hieroglyphics. "This looks right. More than five thousand years... how can he stay sane?"  
DD"Supposedly the fabled Methos is that old, my dear." I replied. "And not only is he sane, but he's smart enough to make sure only those closest to him even know who he is."  
DD"But has Methos lived in the desert for five thousand years, with only one companion for less than half of that time?", she retorted.  
DD"True." I replied. "So, wherever the two of them are, they are old, powerful, and mad as march hares. Pierre, if you want to stay here, so will I, but if you want to flee the country, believe me, there's no shame in it."  
DDHe grinned at me this time. "You speak from experience?"  
DDI didn't smile back. "Running away from death itself is nothing to be ashamed of. I had myself and my Asharu to look out for. I couldn't afford to stay and fight that creature."  
  
DDAfter we left Forrest's tent, I had a horrible thought... perhaps Shesmu was even older than I. My teacher, my mentor had left for Egypt, looking for Anubis.  
DDPerhaps he'd found him. And then joined forces with him. Although my mentor was one of the fastest and most agile swordsmen I had ever seen, my eyes could have been dazzled by youth... and perhaps Anubis had defeated him, but not taken his head for some reason.  
DDI just wish I knew his name.  
  
DDIn my dreams, I saw Anubis. I saw him roaming the desert sands. I could see him...  
DDI could see his face. In his hands he held nothing but a short sword. He stumbled through the desert until he collapsed from hunger, thirst, and heatstroke. As his eyes cracked open, hours later, in the failing daylight he saw the jackals coming for him.  
DDHe saw the face of Anubis before him. And he struck out. His sword left a bloody mark in the face of the nearest creature. As he fought off the wild animals, one was left behind.  
DDHe cut off it's head. He killed the avatar of Anubis.  
DDBut he was already half-mad from thirst and hunger. The animal was not an immortal. There was no life force for him to absorb, no prize to be won.  
DDInside every immortal is a small part of all those that have died by his blade. This immortal must have killed a powerful immortal, and he must have been driven mad by the constant presence of the one he killed.  
DDSo when he killed the avatar of Anubis, he thought he had become Anubis. He took the jackal's head, and made a mask of it. Every few years he would hunt down another jackal to replace the mask he wore. If his weapons needed to be replaced, he would hunt down an immortal and take his head, and his weapon.  
DDHe lived this way for thousands of years before Shesmu finally came along.  
DDI knew Anubis now. I did not know the headsman. I didn't know Shesmu.  
  
DDThe next morning, I showed Pierre no mercy. Every move he made in our sparring match, I countered and returned before he could react. At the end of the morning, when the sun was almost dead above us, he was actually surviving my initial attack and managing to return a few blows. He had potential.  
DDBut potential wouldn't help against Anubis and Shesmu. If he could live through this, he could be a powerful immortal.  
DDIf he could live through this.  
  
See this story and others on my homepage, http://tirade.tripod.com/fanfic/highlander.html 


	10. Chapter 10

Highlander: Osiris  
Homecoming  
Chapter 10  
  
DDThat night, I dreamed once more. The dream went on and on... I could see the sand... I could feel the quickening.  
DDI saw Anubis and Shesmu... I saw myself and Pierre...  
DDI saw River... and another woman...  
DDAnother woman...  
  
DDMy eyes snapped open to see River in front of me, looking at me.  
DD"Bad dreams?", she asked.  
DD"I don't know. I can't remember."  
DDShe leaned over and kissed me. As I put my arms around her, I could feel my fear draining away. River... and another woman...  
DD"You knew her." I said, when our lips finally came apart.  
DD"Hmm?"  
DD"Pierre's mentor. You knew her."  
DDShe looked down for a moment, then her eyes found mine once more. "Yes. She was my aunt."  
DD"How old was she?"  
DD"I don't know. But somehow she and uncle Forrest fell in love. She was here with him. She met my uncle through Pierre."  
DDI was wrong. Pierre hadn't been in love with her... Pierre had simply lover her as he would his mother.  
DD"How long were the two of them together?", I asked.  
DDShe shrugged. "I don't know. I grew up calling her my aunt. When he started to show his age, and she still looked twenty five, I finally asked the big question. That's how I found out about immortals."  
DD"Was she strong?"  
DD"Physically? I don't know. I never saw her fight. But I know what she was like. She was definately a fighter. She wouldn't give up until it was over."  
DD"Most immortals develope that attitude over their first hundred years or so."  
DD"Why haven't you?"  
DDThat caught me off guard. I always assumed that my overcautious attitude was what kept me alive for so long. So many other immortals are too willing to fight... and therefore end up losing their head that much sooner. Even the strongest immortal has to weigh chance into the equation every time he or she fights. Since I rarely fight, chance has less of a hold on my life.  
DD"I don't know."  
  
DDThe next two days, Forrest and Pierre did their normal duties. Pierre was still nursing the ugly wound I gave him in practice, so we thought it best to hold off any more practice until it healed. River and I had free reign of the museum and the digsite.  
DDWhen no one else was in earshot, I told River many things about the museum displays that archaeologists didn't know. I was pleasantly surprised, however, to find out exactly how much River knew about ancient Egypt. In some ways she knew more than I did.  
DDOne thing that I found particularly annoying was that she understood a pidgen of heiroglyphics.  
DDI can't even read heiroglyphics.  
DDAs we walked, we came to a display on mummification. I stared uneasily at another life-sized statue of Anubis when a sudden flash came to me.  
DDAnubis might not be as old as we thought he was. According to the manuscripts from the digsite, he was thought to be at least five thousand years old, probably much older.  
DDBut what's to say that Anubis hadn't been killed a thousand years ago... and the one who killed him, like me, had been a young immortal, and simply lucky enough to deliver a killing blow.  
DDAn immortal's first kill is usually the worst. It is disorienting... often painful. And it adds a small whisper of that immortal, and all of that immortal's victims, into your head.  
DDA young immortal could have killed Anubis thousands of years ago... then simply become him.  
DDThis could work to our advantage. He won't be as powerful as a five thousand year old immortal would be. He won't be as fast, or as strong, or as sensitive as a five thousand year old immortal would be.  
DDIn fact, he had to have died several times. There is no way an immortal can live through five thousands years of regular conflict. The odds against that kind of survival are astronomical.  
DDFor the first time since I arrived in Egypt, my outside mask of bravery finally matched my inner emotion.  
  
DDWhen we were in private, I told River my theory. Although she probably wouldn't be able to help any when the fight came, I wanted her to know what was going on. Besides, Pierre would probably be able to pick up on her mood, and therefore his would be bolstered as well.  
DDShe lit up, of course. "That's good, then isn't it. He's not that powerful."  
DDI smiled back at her. "Now, don't jump to conclusions. He is very powerful. But he just isn't as powerful as a five thousand year old immortal would be, that's all."  
DDShe smiled right back at me. "But it's something."  
DDWe walked in silence for a bit while she chewed on this piece of new information. At the time, we were outside the museum, walking around the block, just looking. We were fairly bored.  
DD"Do you still feel your first kill?"  
DDOnce again, she managed to catch my by surprise. "No. I'm more than two thousand years old."  
DD"But I still remember him."  
  
DDI didn't take a single head during my entire first two lifespans. My first, in Egypt, of course, I knew nothing about my immortality. My second, in persia with Asharu, I lived in relative peace. She and I lived together... she grew old...  
DDWhen she died I ran away. From her. From myself. From Egypt.  
DDFrom death.  
DDIn my wake I left a path of self-destruction. Everyone remember the young man who screamed and fought everyone who crossed his path.  
DDI'm sure I killed people. I was mad. Mad for the loss of my love. Mad for the neverending life that would not let me go.  
DDAnother immortal followed the tale of the crazy young fair-haired man. He finally found me, and we fought.  
DDHe was not 'good' as most would think of a hero as 'good'. Nor was he evil.  
DDHe was simply an immortal, looking for an immortal that he could kill with impunity. No one cared about me. He could take my head and feel no regret.  
DDBut I took his.  
DDThe quickening threw sand around me. The lightning flashed. The sky caved in, and the stars themselves bathed me in cold fire.  
DDThen it was over. The madness was gone. I kept travelling east, away from death. I was still afraid. I was still angry.  
DDBut I was sane.  
  
DDA psychiatrist would have a field day trying to examine me.  
DDI didn't tell River all of the story. I just told her the basics. I could not tell her of my madness... of my anger.  
DDThat was another lifetime. That was a hundred lifetimes ago.  
DDThat wasn't the same man she cared for. Now I was the one fighting for good... for justice. Fighting the demons that had slain a hundred innocent.  
DDAs I had fought the demon inside me... the demon who had slain a dozen innocent.  
  
DDWhy was I willing to fight alongside these people? I owed them nothing. They showed me the same friendship I had shown them... but normally at the first sign of danger, I will run. It's only logical, isn't it?  
DDWas it friendship that kept me with them? Love? Or perhaps the simple need for closure.  
DDAnubis had to die.  
  
See this story and others on my homepage, http://tirade.tripod.com/fanfic/highlander.html 


	11. Chapter 11

Highlander: Osiris  
Homecoming  
Chapter 11  
  
DDFor more than two thousand years, I have been afraid of death. Afraid to face it. Afraid to fight it.  
DDNow I will face death. I will face the creature that has represented death... my death... the death of the innocent... the death of the guilty... the very thing that carried away our dead for thousands of years.  
DDThis time I wasn't alone. I had friends. I had a woman who loved me... and another immortal who would fight by my side.  
DDI'm tired. Tired of running. Tired of hiding. Tired of being afraid of death. It's high time I turn the tables and make death fear me.  
  
DDIn recent years one of the things that managed to catch my attention, and incidentally, helped keep me 'cool' with the generation I appear to be in, was rock music. I dabbled in guitar for a while. I had no talent, but still I dabbled. With a dozen years, even the least talented person can at least pull off a song or two.  
DDOne of the few songs I know how to play was running through my mind as Pierre and I circled around each other in the dirt. I found myself murmering the words as we dueled...  
I  
The window burns to light the way back home  
A light that warms no matter where they've gone  
  
They're off to find the hero of the day  
But what if they should fall by someone's wicked way  
/I  
DDPierre and I tangled weapons, then finally he managed to shove me away. "What did you say?"  
DD"Just humming."  
DD"What?"  
DDI grinned at him, "Metallica's song 'Hero of the Day'. Good band."  
DDHe shrugged, "I never really got into the metal thing."  
DD"Why ever not?"  
DDHe simply shrugged again, then charged, his claymore leading the way for him. I started singing loud enough for him to hear as I simply deflected his blade and sidestepped. For some reason I felt like toying with him.  
I  
Still the window burns  
Time so slowly turns  
And someone there is sighing  
Keepers of the flames  
Do ya feel your name?   
Can't you hear your babies crying?   
/I  
DDI stopped suddenly and pointed my scimitar at the ground. "Oh, man. I've got a sudden Metallica craving. You know where we could find a stereo around here? I've got some CDs with me... I think that one's on either Load or Reload."  
DD"Yeah, sure. I've got one in my tent. But don't wear down the batteries. I don't have that many."  
DDWe put away our weapons and headed out. The song was still in my head... and my walkman and headphones I kept in my tent would only get in the way of our sparring.  
DDA few minutes later, I didn't have to hum... his stereo wasn't great, but now we had music to fight by.  
DDIt's the little things in life you treasure.  
  
DDThat night River and I curled up together in my... well, now our tent. I found myself humming that same song as we lay together...  
I  
These things return  
to me that still seems real  
/I  
DDThen I felt it. It was so strong I almost gagged, and as I curled up, I almost knocked River off of our cot.  
DD"What is it?" She asked, not feeling it herself. "What's wrong?"  
DDI rolled off of the cot and grabbed my coat and weapons. "The quickening."  
DDAs I stepped outside of the tent, I could feel which direction they were in. It was more than one sense... nothing else could be that strong. Anubis and Shesmu.  
DDHere.  
DDI could hear yelling in the directions I sensed them. I ran as fast as I could... but when I felt them close by, I ran around one of the larget tents to come from a different direction.  
DDI turned the corner to see Anubis and Shesmu, completely aware of me... but ignoring me. I saw Pierre, running towards them as well. They ignored him.  
DDAs they marched away, I saw that they were carrying a human form. Still alive, from what it seemed.  
DDForrest.  
DDRiver came up behind me. She saw the scene... men on the ground, alive or dead, we couldn't tell. And her uncle, alive... but with them. She screamed something that I didn't catch, and tried to chase after him. I pulled her back. "You can't help him right now. This is between us immortals."  
DDShe tried to hit me, and I grabbed her fists, like I would a child. "He's not an immortal! What are they trying to do?"  
DD"The same thing every immortal tries to do. Take heads. They'll use him to get to us. When they killed your aunt, the quickening must have given one of them some of her sensations, perhaps even a memory or two. Whichever one of them killed her recognized Forrest. They know it will draw out Pierre. They're probably hoping that it will bring me out as well."  
  
DDPierre and I followed the trail as best we could. Neither of us are trackers.  
DDThen we found that our work wasn't necissary. The tracks led to a spot in the middle of the desert... there we found it.  
DDAnubis had left a sign of his passing. The head of a jackal sat on the ground, grinning a dry death grin. Under it sat a slim stone tablet. Pierre caught the basic message in heiroglyphics, enough that we knew we didn't have to stop and completely translate it.  
DDThis tablet had probably been used a dozen times before, all for the same purpose. It described a certain temple nearby... A temple for Anubis himself.  
DDAnubis wanted us to find him. Anubis wanted to draw us out to his fighting ground.  
DDThen it hit me.  
DDThe temple was holy ground.  
  
DDIt was a bumpy ride through the desert. Luckily the truck Pierre had chosen was up to the task. His voice quivered with the ride... and probably with his anger as well.  
DD"This temple was a temple to Anubis. We should have looked into it before."  
DDI patted his shoulder... and felt a weapon strap somewhere under his jacket. "It's not your fault. We didn't know this would happen. It's not every day that a pair of egyptian gods come knocking on your door."  
DD"This place was where the dead were preserved. Mummies were made. Ceremonies to send them to the afterlife. All of this. This was the home of Anubis."  
DD  
DDWe finally arrived, and as we drew closer, I could feel the presence of other immortals nearby... too strong to be anyone or anything else but Anubis and Shesmu.  
DD"They're here." I said, "But remember, once we are in the temple, it is holy ground. We can only fight there if they begin the fight. Be wary."  
DDPierre nodded to me as we got out of the truck. "I'm ready. I'm armed. They're dead."  
DDI looked up at the temple. The massive squat structure wasn't huge... but the statues that flanked the doorway were. "Well, shall we use the front door?"  
DDPierre grinned and said, "We shall."  
DDFor a young immortal, he's learned how to enjoy himself well... that sort of relaxation in the face of death takes years to come by. Well, if this was his last chance to goof off before he died, so be it. He might as well make the most of it.  
DDThe curl in my gut grew suddenly stronger... and there they were.  
DDAnubis and Shesmu came around the corner.  
DDI'd promised myself I wouldn't flinch when they showed themselves. I didn't.  
DDAnubis barked a few words in ancient egyptian. My mind was in a blur, I didn't understand every word. But he said something about holy ground... and something about his captive.  
DDShesmu pointed with his iwas/i, pointing deeper into the temple. Then the two of them simply turned their backs to us, and walked that way, trusting that we would not break the sanctity of holy ground.  
DDWe didn't. Pierre and I simply followed them, through the temple. Past the murals and the statues. Past the heiroglyphics that I couldn't read, and Pierre didn't have the time to translate. Finally we reached the heart of the temple. The sanctuary in the temple... and the wall in the back that had been knocked down.  
DDThe wall that marked the end of the holy ground was rubble. Beyond it, we saw Forrest, bound and unconcious, but still breathing. Anubis and Shesmu readied their weapons, and walked beyond the crumbled wall.  
DDIt was time for Pierre and I to fight.  
  
See this story and others on my homepage, http://tirade.tripod.com/fanfic/highlander.html 


	12. Chapter 12

Highlander: Osiris  
Homecoming  
Chapter 12  
  
DDPierre faced the headsman. I faced death.  
DDAnubis sense that I was the more powerful of the two, and he was wary. Pierre and Shesmu clashed first.  
DDTesting each other's defenses, Pierre and Shesmu charged at each other several times. Charged with ferocity greater than I had ever seen, Pierre slapped aside the demon's staff.  
DDSparks flew as weapons clashed. Droplets of blood landed on the ground... no one in the room knew who they had come from. The combatants fought on, unfeeling. And I... well, I faced death itself.  
DDAnubis and I stalked towards each other slowly. He had his sword, I had mine. It was no longer the same short sword that he had turned against me so many years ago. In it's place was a bright steel blade, almost as long as my scimitar.  
DDAlmost, but not quite.  
DDHe struck first, and I deflected it and spun past him, hoping to slip my blade between his ribs, as I had done with Pierre during our sparring.  
DDI hit only air. Luckily, I turned in time to deflect his following blow.  
DDAnubis was more agile than I had given him credit for. And as I felt his blade ring against mine, I realized that he was much stronger as well.  
DDThe old me would have been overcome with a sense of doom, and retreated to the nearby holy ground.  
DDBut now it was time for me to fight. It was time for me to defeat death once more. Anubis and I danced in the sunlight. Liquid that may have been sweat or blood flew. Neither one of us could gain an advantage. I was too cautious. He was too swift.  
  
DDMeanwhile, Pierre and Shesmu fought. Pierre was using both hands on his sword, deflecting Shesmu's attacks as best he could. Finally, Shesmu started using both ends of his staff, taking full advantage of the two ends against Pierre's single sword.  
DDPierre blocked one strong swing of the razor edge, only to find the iwas/i swinging back at him with the other end. The side of the double spikes struck him hard, and he fell backwards. Shesmu took another swing at the prone immortal with the razor edge, and Pierre managed to hold out his sword. The sword was torn from his hand by the force of the blow, but it was enough to save him from being disemboweled. Immediately, Shesmu reversed the direction of his staff, hoping to stab him with the tip of the iwas/i.  
DDSomehow Pierre managed to squirm out of it. The staff bounced off the ground, and left a mark on Pierre's back, but it did little damage. My friend reached into his coat, and drew out the pair of hand blades I had given him.  
DDShesmu saw them and jumped back, but not until Pierre swung his blades with full force, leaving a matched set of cuts on Shesmu's leg.  
DDPierre pulled himself to his feet as fast as he could. He was wounded, Shesmu's blade had left a deep gash in his stomach, and a smaller one on his back when he had been on the ground. But Shesmu was moving slower now. He was injured as well.  
  
DDMy scimitar snaked through Anubis defenses, and he had to twist and turn out of the way. I flew at him with such grace and speed that I amazed myself. He had no choice but to dodge and retreat. Finally, my attack was turned against me, and he cut into my left arm. I let it drop, as if injured much more than it was.  
DDAnd hidden in that motion, three sheaves fell between my fingers. As he continues his attack, I deflected his blade with my scimitar, and then twisted around him, throwing the sheaves at his unprotected back. He growled, in anger or pain, and swung with full force.  
DDWith his full strength, he would have knocked my sword from my hand and cut me in half.  
DDBut I didn't give him the chance. My scimitar intercepted his blade, and was swept aside. I felt it fly from my fingertips, but before it could clatter on the ground, I was already stepping back and reaching into my coat. One of my wakazashi came into my left hand, and my katana came into my right.  
  
DDPierre held his left arm against the gash in his side. It slowed him, and kept him from dodging Shesmu's attacks as well... but Shesmu was wounded in the legs, and he couldn't attack as fast. The two were on equal ground for now.  
DDPierre used his right hand, his faster hand to deflect the oncoming blade. Slowly but surely, he was being beaten back... back towards a wall.  
DDAnd he saw it coming. As a last ditch effort, he tried to spin around Shesmu, putting himself away from the wall.  
DDBut Shesmu anticipated his move.  
DDThe axe-like blade chopped hard into Pierre's spine, sending him sprawling. Pierre lost the blade in his right hand. Frantically, he grabbed at the sheaves and threw them from his prone position on the ground. Shesmu dodged the first and second, and caught the last only on his shoulder.  
DDThinking my friend to be wounded, Shesmu closed in slowly... laughing under his breath. "You are a worthy opponant. Your teacher would have been proud."  
DDPierre could almost see him smiling under his mask as he repeated. "Would have been."  
DDShesmu stalked closer, toying with his prey. No man could have taken a blow like that to the back and not have been paralyzed.  
DDBut no man ordinarily carries a claymore under his jacket. Pierre threw my carbon-bladed knife at the monster, and rolled out of harm's reach, throwing aside his jacket and pulling the claymore from the folds. With a sword in hand, and a smaller blade in the other, he rushed at Shesmu, cursing and screaming.  
DDShesmu was forced on the defensive as my friend delivered blow after blow from both weapons. The iwas/i staff spun in every direction, and it was all the headsman could do to keep from being split open.  
DDFinally Pierred caught an opening in Shesmu's defense. The hand blade struck out, clipping the monster's shoulder, sending him spinning. The claymore slapped Shesmu's back, from too close to cause much damage, but enough to draw blood.  
DDPierre was about to swing his hand blade at the creature's throat when he felt it.  
DDAs Shesmu spun around, it had turned the weapon in his hands away from Pierre.  
DDBut the back end of the weapon was a pair of barbed points, sharper than any spear.  
DDPierre felt the searing cold metal enter his chest. Shesmu turned, slowly and kicked out, ripping his weapon from the younger immortal's hands. Gasping for breath, Pierre crawled towards his discarded cutlass. Shesmu leapt over him and kicked it away. It skittered along the ground in the general direction of Anubis and me.  
DD"There can be only one.", Shesmu said.  
  
DDAnubis and I danced together. My blades twirled, smaller than his, but faster and sharper. I know I was injured... but the blood spattered on the ground and on my skin could not have all come from me. I crossed my blades to intercept his, and as we came together, I pushed away. He fell back, and had to regain his footing.  
DDInstead of pushing the initiative, I stepped back as well. I held my katana over my right shoulder, next to my head, pointing towards him. My wakasashi crossed it, pointing straight up.  
DDAnd I waited for Anubis to attack.  
DDThen I heard it. I saw it. The flickers of lightning. The primal scream from Shesmu, the headsman of the underworld.  
DDThe quickening. Pierre was dead.  
DDI heard footsteps coming towards us. Anubis and I stood still, facing each other. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Shesmu. He was almost unharmed... the quickening had helped heal most of his battle injuries.  
DDThen he stopped.  
DDHe stopped.  
DDAnd he watched. And waited.  
DDAt that moment, I knew that I was going to die. If Anubis killed me, I would die.  
DDIf I killed Anubis, I would die during the quickening.  
DDChance had caught up to me. After all these years... chance had caught up to me.  
DDRiver's voice whispered inside my head, "She was definately a fighter. She wouldn't give up until it was over."  
DDI had no choice. I could lay down and die right here... or I could fight on.  
DDWhen the only choice is to make a choice somehow it becomes easier.  
DDFear means nothing to me now. Shesmu watched his master duel... he didn't try to help him. That is the nature of evil. Evil feeds off of the world, with no thought of giving in return.  
DDPierre, River, Forrest, Forrest's wife and I... we were all givers. We gave with no thought of return. We were good. I was good. Pierre had been good.  
DDCold vengeance means nothing. I simply had to remove this evil from the world.  
  
See this story and others on my homepage, http://tirade.tripod.com/fanfic/highlander.html 


	13. Chapter 13

Highlander: Osiris  
Homecoming  
Chapter 13  
  
DDThere were three. Anubis and I faced each other, and Shesmu, more like a jackal than Anubis himself, waited for one of us to fall.  
DDThen Anubis attacked. He swung his blade faster and stronger than I could have ever matched in my previous lifetimes. But with the strength of a hundred immortals, and the strength of a hundred mortals who might be killed by this evil, I swung my blades in response.  
DDMy crossed blades intercepted his, turning it around. At the last moment, he saw what I was doing, and tried to grope for the scythe-like sword on his belt with his left hand, but to no avail. I continued pushing his sword away with my wakasashi, and pulled my katana away from the blade. The moment I freed my longer blade, I stepped in and slashed across his stomach.  
DDHe moaned in pain. Any weaker immortal would have screamed. My blade bit deeply into his gut, and as I pulled it out blood splashed against my skin. He dropped his sword, and I turned, and shoved my wakasashi into his back. He fell to the stone, dead to the world.  
DDI knew I could take his head. I knew I could take him out of this world and remove the stain he had put on it.  
DDBut there was one more thing to do first. I dropped the katana and wakasashi, and walked over to my scimitar. Shesmu had to die as well.  
DDShesmu stood in shock. At first he was waiting for me to take Anubis' head. He thought I simply wanted to use my favorate blade. But when I simply slashed at him once more to make sure he was dead, then turned to face Shesmu, he finally understood.  
DDHe had to fight me now. He wasn't facing a hundred year old immortal anymore.  
DDI am older than Christ himself. All of my life I have fought and run. Run and fought.  
DDHe was going to die.  
  
DDI was tired from my battle. He was almost completely healed by the power of the quickening. And the power of one more immortal was coursing through his veins.  
DDBut none of this mattered.  
DDI swung first, and he was almost too shocked to block my wild swing.  
DDAlmost.  
DDHe intercepted my blade with his staff and swung back. I simply dodged his clumsy return, and gave three more swings of my own. Holding the scimitar with one hand, I sent more blows towards him than he knew what to do with. Suddenly, I saw an opening and I lashed out with my foot. He fell back, and as he stumbled, I heard something clatter under his feet.  
DDPierre's cutlass was kicked towards me, and I scooped it up with my left hand. Sending blow after blow into the demon before me, he was forced back. Step by step, he was now up against a wall.  
DDFinally, I pulled back a step and set my scimitar, point facing towards him, above my right shoulder. He had seen me kill Anubis with this same move.  
DDI don't know if I just wanted to frighten him, or if I thought I could kill him like that. But Pierre's cutlas met it, pointing straight up, acting as a much larger version of the cross that had swept aside Anubis' blade.  
DDShesmu did the only thing he could. He swung the axe-head of the iwas/i at my left side, the one that seemed to be open. But he simply wasn't as fast as I am.  
DDMy weapons turned his aside, and I pulled back on my scimitar, ready to follow through with a disemboweling cut.  
DDThe scimitar is much longer than the katana. In the extra time it took for me to free my blade, Shesmu simply spun his in the direction it was already headed, away from me.  
DDAnd pointing the spear-tipped end at my stomach.  
DDBefore I could swing my scimitar into his torso, I felt the two prongs inside of me. I looked down numbly. Shesmu pushed once, and I felt blood running down my back.  
DDThis was the end. I heard him growl something in ancient egyptian, but I didn't understand it. He rearranged his grip on the iwas/i, and he was ready spin it.  
DDI thought of the mummy we had found. So long ago, this same monster had taken a iwas/i and broken that man's back.  
DDAs Shesmu was going to do to me before he took my head.  
DD"Il peut y avoir seulement d'un", I said weakly. In french, "There can be only one."  
DDHe understood, and laughed. With a twist, his staff suddenly turned.  
DDI felt nothing anymore. Now I know how Pierre felt before he died. There was nothing. Nothing for an immortal. There is no afterlife for one who is meant to live forever.  
DDI could not move my legs. The only thing holding me up was the very weapon that was about to kill me. But my arms were still functional.  
DDAnd while Shesmu's weapon was inside me, he could not use it to block.  
DDIt took every ounce of my strength to swing my scimitar and Pierre's cutlass at the monster's neck.  
DDBut it cut through.  
DDHis head fell to the ground, and lightning flared around me.  
  
DDI dimly remember the quickening feeding energy back into me, as quickly as my blood drained out of me and onto the warm stone. When Shesmu fell, he fell away from me, pulling the iwas/i mostly out of me.  
DDMostly. As the quickening tore through me, healing me, and bringing back sensation... pain, in my lower body, the weapon was still inside of me. I remember plucking it out of me. I had never felt such power, such strength...  
DDAnd when it was done, I collapsed on the stone.  
DDWhen I awoke, I was still bleeding slowly. My wounds had made an attempt to heal, but I knew the moment I stood I would begin the bleeding all over again. So I crawled. With my scimitar in one hand, I crawled over to the still-warm corpse of Anubis.  
DD"You tried to take my life more than once. Now there can be only one."  
DDI chopped at the body, feeling my sword bite into the stone underneath. I lay on the ground and watched as it rose into the air. Lighting flared around it. Thunder crashed in the distance.  
DDFor the first time in years, the clouds gathered above and released their cold fire into the desert. The land all around us was flooded.  
DDThe quickening felt like it took hours.  
  
DDI awoke to find the stone under my back still wet and clammy. The noonday sun beat down on my skin, but I am dark enough that my exposed arms were not too badly burned.  
DDAnd a few hours out of the sunlight would cure that.  
DDOther than that, I was fine.  
DDNot a scratch on me. I sat up, quickly, and shook off the dizzy spell that accompanied it.  
DDSuddenly remembering, I walked as fast as I could to where Forrest was tied up. He was badly sunburned, and he needed water, but other than that he was fine. I untied him, and helped rub the circulation back into his hands and feet.  
DD"I take it we won.", he finally said when he was able to speak.  
DD"I won." I corrected. "Pierre gave his life for this battle. But the enemy is dead. Yes, I think we won."  
DDI left him alone for a moment and started to collect all of the weapons. Pierre's cutlass was the only weapon that wasn't mine that I took.  
DDI left Anubis' two swords and the iwas/i. They were nothing I wanted to remember.  
DDWhen I left with my last handful of weapons, Forrest hobbled along with me to the truck. In almost absolute silence, we drove back to camp.  
DD"River must be worried sick about us.", Forrest finally said.  
DDI nodded. "Probably."  
DDThere just wasn't much we could say right then.  
DDOnly one thought ran through my mind right then. I had come home. I had faced my fears. I had defeated death itself.  
DDI took the powers of two gods.  
DDAnd I have finally come back home.  
  
See this story and others on my homepage, http://tirade.tripod.com/fanfic/highlander.html 


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